Fortune and Glory: Tantalizing Twenty-Seven (Stephanie Plum, #27)

by Janet Evanovich

“This is a bad idea,” Lula said to me. “My nipples are all shrunk up and trying to hide inside my body. It’s like what men’s gonads do when someone comes at them with a butcher knife. Those suckers abandon ship and there’s nothing left but an empty nut sack. Not that I know firsthand. I’m just sayin’ what I hear.”

I was getting nowhere fast on all this stuff, but as Yoda says, “Do or do not. There is no try.” So, I was all about the do today.

My mother looked like she was trying to decide between booze or Xanax. I understood her dilemma. Her thankless job was to be the voice of reason and maturity in a family of oddballs. My father keeps his head down and wills himself to be invisible, occasionally barking for more hot gravy at the dinner table. My sister Valerie is married to a very sweet man who seems to be incompetent at everything other than keeping her pregnant. And then there’s me and Grandma with Superhero Derangement Syndrome.

“Everyone wants to be a better version of themselves,” he said. “It’s easy for you because you just needed a new jacket. For some other people the job is more complicated.”

War, famine, pestilence didn’t stop my relatives from moving forward one foot in front of the other. They were good solid plodders without grandiose expectations. And that’s the legacy they left me. The ability to plod forward, no matter the circumstances. I realize plodding isn’t glamorous, but there are times when it serves a purpose.